Cadenza
by Sophismata
Summary: Cadenza refers to a portion of a concerto in which the orchestra stops playing, leaving the soloist to play alone. With the old structure of society gone in the wake of Infection, would you play your Cadenza from what was written, or from your heart?
1. The Infection

_**Cadenza**_

Extended Summary (As of Nov 27, 2009 and subject to change): Society is like an orchestra, and its strict rules the score of a concerto. In a concerto, the cadenza is where the player has the freedom to do whatever he likes and make whatever impression he chooses. Then, the orchestra picks up again, leaving the audience in awe of the display. Nowadays, cadenzas tend to be written by a third party and the soloist would practice it and play it as ordained by someone else, like how we dance to society's rules. The Infection broke down these rules. Free of these constraints, what would these estranged friends play when they could play from their heart?

Disclaimer: Left 4 Dead belongs to Valve, though I've taken the liberty to change certain elements of the game and setting to my liking and/or convenience. The characters and the story itself belong to me.

Line Breaks: Line breaks indicate a change in point of view. It is set up so that you, the reader, would eventually find out the name and identity of the characters without a blatant "I am Bob" at the top. If it is still too hard to follow, tell me so and I will try to make it more obvious in the future.

Warnings: Corny jokes, as I tend to write in the wee hours of morning. I ASSUMED that since you, the reader, played L4D, you will be okay with some references to blood, mild violence, and suggestive themes.

Work In Progress: I have everything in ONE Word document, so I am always reading and rereading what I wrote, and thus rewriting and editing and the works. The point: I might change minor things like wording, adding detail, etc. as I see fit to 'finished' chapters. Sorry. I will try to keep a change log.

Reviews (12/1/09): I encourage reviews! I'm always seeking to improve. Recently I realized I had anonymous reviews disabled, but now it is enabled. My mistake.

* * *

___**C**_**_adenza_:** Cadenza often refers to a portion of a concerto in which the orchestra stops playing, leaving the soloist to play alone in free time (without a strict, regular pulse) and can be written or improvised, depending on what the composer specifies. This normally occurs near the end of the first movement, though it can be at any point in a concerto... It usually is the most elaborate and virtuosic part that the solo instrument plays during the whole piece. At the end of the cadenza, the orchestra re-enters, and generally finishes off the movement on their own, or, less often, with the solo instrument.

(From Wikipedia)

Part I:

I woke up reluctantly to the sound of my beeper going off. The thing was promptly silenced and tossed back into the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. I didn't have to check it; the hospital was calling me again. It was only a month into the job and I was already sick of it—the assumption that I was always available. But that was something I agreed to when I signed the contract with the three full pages of tiny text that basically said when I was on call, I was fair game, so I dragged myself out of bed and pulled on fresh clothes. A dim red glow in on the nightstand slowly focused into something that resembled 4:03 AM.

The television was still on; I had forgotten to turn it off before I passed out. I vaguely recalled turning it on to catch the news before my headache decided for me that my day was over. Now it was going on about the infection. It had been going on about little else for a good week. The information barely seeped into my brain as I lurched towards the bathroom and made myself presentable. I discerned something about quarantine. Everyone was advised to increase sanitary habits…yadda yadda.

I tried not to crash into anything as I sleep-drove towards the hospital. For self preservation reasons, I whittled an entire cigarette down to the base. It cleared my head a little, so I made it to the hospital in one piece. Walking out to the doors, I took one last drag and prayed it would help drown out the headache I was in for when I entered the building and all these nurses would babble information and statistics at me…and I'd have to process all of it…at four in the morning.

However, a whole pack of cigarettes would not have prepared me for what awaited me behind those double doors. The ER was a mess. There were nurses getting wrapped up in bandages and patients getting restrained and strapped to the cots. Security guards were running around everywhere; I didn't even realize we hired that many. The fluorescent lights made my vision blur, and I felt my focus slipping again.

"What's going on?" I asked no one in particular, expecting someone to reply. As it were, no one bothered to tell me. I felt as though I were walking in a hectic dream, with bright lights and echoes of people shouting, and people ignoring me in general. The situation looked like a job for riot police, not doctors, but I deduced that the guys upstairs must have pulled me from bed at four in the morning for a good reason.

One patient suddenly broke away from his captor and lunged at me. I instinctively evaded him and let a security guard protect me. As the scratched up security guard rescued me from my assailant, I pulled out another cigarette despite the large NO SMOKING sign near the door; I would probably need the smoke. The one who tried to pounce on me was starting to foam at the mouth. Diagnosis on the go wasn't my specialty, but I assumed he had some sort of rabies. That was all fine, except the number of people here with similar looks on their face at varying degrees of progression worried me just a little.

"WHAT IS GOING ON?" I tried again at the top of my voice. I coughed a little; smoking and shouting don't always work well together. This time I got a little attention. I didn't like what I heard.

* * *

The military shut down my city pretty quickly. The infection wasn't even news at the time. _We_ werethe news. Hordes of rabid people terrorized the streets, and it wasn't long before the military was called out to rescue the rest of us. That's what they said. Rescue.

I was one of the earlier people rescued from the city. We were airlifted to a nearby camp, where the medics gave us a checkup and patched up our scratches. Even then I felt something was wrong with the way they acted, but I didn't know what it was until I overheard one telling his superior that it was too late. Next thing I know, we were lined up against the wall, facing the business end of bunch of assault rifles.

The others were afraid; I could smell their fear. They huddled together as the soldiers recited to them that they were already infected and they had to satisfy the quarantine. To worsen the mood, it started to drizzle. I looked out at the firing squad from under my hood. It made me angry, and I guess that was when the adrenaline started pumping. Right before they pulled the trigger, I leapt out of the line of fire, making it farther than I thought I would. I broke into a run, not looking back as the sound of gunfire and screams pursued.

The soldiers were surprised too. By the time they figured out to point their gun at me, I had already dashed to the adjacent fence and cleared it. I was quite amazed to have jumped it so easily, but I credited the accomplishment to adrenaline.

Outside of the camp, I found myself alone on the abandoned streets. The military was chasing me, but they took the lengthy path around the fences that I sailed over. It didn't take me long to decide where I wanted to go. I made my way towards the suburbs, after losing my pursuers in the alleys where they didn't know their way around nearly as well as I did.

As corporate buildings gave way to suburban neighborhoods, I marveled at how I wasn't tired yet. Cross country was never my forte, yet the only complication I suffered was thirst. This wasn't too much of a problem. There were many convenience stores along the way. I eagerly turned the corner where I knew my favorite one would be.

To my surprise, I was not alone. There were a good twenty or so people there, smashing through the doors and windows. The interior was empty. I knew it was a bad idea to join rioters, but I did anyways, and the crowd largely ignored me. When they broke in, I snagged a drink from the fridge and was back on my way, chugging down the bottle of—I looked at the label—Fanta as I went. The rain steadily worsened, but I barely noticed and cared even less.

That was when things started to go wrong. The Fanta didn't satisfy my thirst at all; in fact it may have intensified it. My entire body started to ache, but it was a dull enough pain that failed to stop me from reaching the house I was looking for. Gasping more from thirst than fatigue, I threw myself at the large white house on the corner of its block, with the clear, bay windows and tall trees in the yard.

No one answered. I hammered at the door desperately. The abuse put a dent on the wood, so I promptly stopped and resorted to shouting at the upper stairs windows. A rather rude expletive replied, but from the wrong house.

"Cain!" I snarled, rattling the doorknob. The door opened unexpectedly, leaving me to blink like an idiot at the interior. Cain doesn't usually leave his door unlocked. The bewilderment passed quickly though, and I leapt through the house towards the only room he was likely to be in at this hour, nevermind that I ran across the grand piano in my hurry and made all sorts of racket. Another rude expletive hailed from the adjacent house.

"Cain?" I pounced into the master bedroom. The bed was empty but unmade, and it looked like someone had rolled out of it in a hurry. There were clothes on the floor and the closet was left open with garments spilling out. The mess contrasted with the orderliness in the rest of the house. The television was still on, depicting the rescue of citizens in the nearby city—my city. They left out the firing squad part. Despite my hurry, the television caught my attention. I stuck my face in front of it and turned up the volume. Footage of infected people flashed across the screen. As I scrutinized their faces, I thought of the people I passed on my way here, on the streets as well as at the convenience store. Could they have been infected? If so, why didn't they attack me?

I arrived at the conclusion that the doctor would have a better conclusion than me. All the evidence indicated he was summoned to the hospital, so I bolted down the stairs with my new destination in mind. I ended up collapsing and falling down the last couple stairs. The grinding pain in my bones attacked again, and I was getting a headache too. Deciding that I wasn't even going to find my way in this state, I navigated my way back up and located the aspirin. Maybe I knew the house a little better than I should.

I popped two pills into my mouth. That turned out to be a mistake, but I didn't know why, and it was too late.

* * *

I managed to avoid any injuries, major or minor, in the long hours I labored in the hospital trying to figure out what happened. Whatever the problem was, I didn't want to risk catching it, so I carefully avoided possibilities of skin abrasions. I survived the tedious meetings over the information the doctors had gathered in the course of the night as well as the data compiled by hospitals in the main city which had been hit earlier. It wasn't long before the government came in and ordered everyone back to his or her homes and to avoid contact with anyone else.

Right, the quarantine. I had almost forgotten about it. Apparently we were to be airlifted the next day. By we, they meant the people who had yet to be scratched, bitten, or otherwise maimed by the rabies-infected patients. They ordered us to be discreet, since many people have been bitten and they probably would not like to be told that their rescue would be delayed by checkups.

The cigarette pack was empty by the time I made it back to my house. No doubt some of the other doctors resented my habits, but given the situation, enforcing smoking rules was the last thing on their minds. I worked out the facts in my head. The infected only feel the urge to attack the uninfected. The virus enhances a few physical abilities while the mind regresses. Advanced cases of the infection include horde mentality and behavior. It was also observed that the infection manifests a bit differently from individual to individual. Most become crazy but change very little physically. In some cases the infected would even mutate and change their appearance.

My train of thought derailed when I reached the door. It was open. There was an intruder in my house in the middle of quarantine! I cursed under my breath and armed myself with a candlestick off the dining table. I kept a handgun upstairs in my nightstand drawer, but it felt unwise to rush up there at the moment. Hopefully this intruder was not infected, lest I expose myself to this odd disease.

It was raining quite hard now. I could barely hear my own footsteps over the sound of rain colliding with the windows. Still, I carefully searched my house from the bottom up, mindful to check all the possible hiding spaces. The longer I waited, the harder my heart pounded against my chest. I resisted the urge to light another cig. Not that smoking is ever healthy, but the professional side of me decided I had consumed enough carcinogens at the hospital.

The intruder was passed out next to my nightstand. A bottle of aspirin lay near him, with half its contents spilt over the floor. I prodded him with the candlestick, but got no reaction. Satisfied, I proceeded to drag him away so I could retrieve my gun.

That woke him up. I barely made three feet when he sprang out of my grasp and behind the sofa where I couldn't see him. This scared me out of half my lifespan and I instantly snatched the candlestick again. I could hear him growling and snarling to himself, and tried to follow the sound so I could attempt to knock him out. When I saw him again, he was leaping through the air reaching for my face. My reflexes swung the candlestick at him, knocking him out of the air.

He landed on his feet and pounced again before I finished my swing. The momentum brought the two of crashing into the wall, and he lost his footing. I saw the opening to quickly switch the candlestick for the gun, but he disappeared again. I decided he had the advantage in close quarters so I bolted down the stairs and out the front door into the rain, not knowing where the heck I was going to run after that but wanting as much distance as possible between the creature and myself. I turned around and leveled the gun at the door; I'm a pretty good shot, so said my time at the shooting range.

He didn't disappoint. A blurred shadow leapt out of the darkness, straight out the door at me and the barrel of my gun. I had a clear shot at his head…

...And a clear view of his face.

"Alex!" I exclaimed, for no good reason. The finger on the trigger froze. In that split second I did not shoot, he had me on the floor and pinned. The gun was knocked out of my hand and lost in the rain somewhere. The impact from my back hitting the ground stunned me while he wasted no time clawing at my torso. "Alex, stop it! It's me!" I screamed as I struggled to push him off. His claws ripped past my shirt into my flesh, leaving me to wonder why he had claws in the first place. "Get the hell off of me Alex! ARGH!" The gashes burned, and the creature brushed aside all attempts at removing him. He was screaming in his frenzy, and so was I. Somewhere in the distance there was shouting too. When all the noise started to become indistinguishable to me and I was reduced to only protecting my face from the onslaught of rain and nails, Alex—or the creature I called Alex—suddenly decided to relent. He turned his hooded face around, as though he was lost. Then he looked at me in all my misery, soaked in rain and blood and shreds of what used to be my shirt. "Alex," I pleaded, assuming through the excellent logic of desperate optimism that he had finally recognized who I was.

Desperate optimism was simply another way of saying wishful thinking. A feral roar rolled over us from the distance, and like a wolf answering his brethren's call, Alex promptly forgot about me and took off in that direction. He went towards the military encampment, and in his wake, a huge horde of infected citizens followed suit. Some of them broke into the houses nearby, attacking the residents. I could only watch motionlessly from the cement, paralyzed by the pain and shock from what Alex did to me. I didn't want to be one of them. I willed with all my heart that I was one of the few immune ones, even though it was obvious the military stationed here was doomed already and there would be no airlift to take me out of here. In my heart I knew it was futile, such wishful thinking, but it is always hard to accept that you can't change the inevitable.

As if to confirm my fate, the mass of infected lurched past me without sparing me as much as a glance, uninterested in someone just like them.

* * *

A/N: [11-27-09]

- I tend not to write in first person, so bear with me as I learn the art. It is not as flexible as I would like, but I do find it fun and enlightening. Constructive criticism is always welcome, either through PMs or reviews.

- I don't have this all carefully planned out; it comes to me as I write. The direction of the plot is at the mercy of my whims and mood swings...and maybe other people's suggestions. I may or may not have a few chapters finished in advance, but that's as far as "planning" will ever go.

- Line breaks = different point of view.


	2. The Transition

A/N:  
11/27/09 - Added part 2 pretty fast to have more 'stuff' out there.

* * *

Part II:

When I woke up—well I didn't really wake up. I had that feeling of watching myself without being in control, like in a dream. I was aware, but nothing was registering in my head, so I let my body act the way it wanted to. The human who was with me looked familiar, but I couldn't remember why. Instinct told me to attack him, so I did. He was nimble, and took advantage of his space to escape outside into the rain. When I found him again, he was outside pointing a gun at me. I remember the gun as something that could possibly be dangerous, but I attacked him anyways, and my decision was rewarded with a successful pin. A blood frenzy hit me, and I mindlessly started to claw away at my victim, amused but unaffected by the resistance he raised. This made me less thirsty, though I didn't recall having drunk anything.

My claws ripped easily into the human's chest. The fabric was no defense against me, and I tossed the pieces aside when they tangled with my claws. Something felt so wrong at the same time it felt so right. The human gave up on trying to toss me off, but that only egged me on. My claws connected with something solid. I peered at it. It was a silver cross hanging from a slender chain. It was then I comprehended that the human was actually saying things.

"Alex," the human was pleading. I was hit with the realization that I _knew_ this person I was attacking. Memories of where and when I'd seen that cross flashed at me. The faint fragrance of tobacco floated up to me past the rain like faded incense. _Cain_ I tried to say, but all that came out was a low growl.

There was a loud roar coming from somewhere. I recognized it as a battle cry, and my instincts immediately moved to answer it. So powerful were these feelings that it completely blew my rational thought away, and I left Cain where I downed him, even though I was sure he was dying and it was my fault. I fretted only as far as I could sense him. When I lost sight of him, conscious thought blanked out and I relinquished myself completely to the animalistic urges I knew nothing about.

Eventually I ended up at a camp similar to the one I escaped from. There were people running around everywhere. Infected humans were breaking into the buildings and getting gunned down by the defense. There were a few huge infected there too; muscular monsters that not even gunfire took down. They threw slabs of cement at the humans, who quickly either scattered or fell. One was isolated when all his friends ran the other way. I scaled the wall and pounced on him, happy to have something else to dig my claws into.

Chaos and destruction raged around me, and when I decided my victim didn't struggle enough anymore, I joined in, adding my howls to that of my comrades.

There were no survivors.

* * *

The streets were strangely empty. There were many cars, but they were deserted in the middle of the road. A lot must have changed since I was last out of the asylum. Even in heavy rain like this, there were often people outside, or cars rushing across the streets.

But the roads were the same. They led to the same places, and they were called the same names. I followed the path I remembered more out of unconscious memory than conscious thought. There were more people on the streets when I reached the suburbs, but they ignored me despite my strange clothes. Tiredness found me quickly. I wasn't allowed out of the asylum often, and this time I simply took advantage of the fact that the door broke down.

I arrived at a familiar looking street, though I didn't realize it at first. I've always thought of my brother's home as a peaceful place. It was always a place of perfection, quiet but warm, orderly but not stark. The block I walked into was in shambles. There were broken doors and windows everywhere. Some houses even had missing walls. But the name of the street was right, and I saw the familiar white house on the corner.

As I approached it, I saw a person lying on the ground. Closer inspection revealed it to be my brother. He was unconscious and bleeding out. A panic took over me. I had no idea what happened to him, but the thought of losing brother made my blood rush. No longer feeling any fatigue, I screamed his name and tossed myself over him. A strange echoing howl answered me, though I ignored it at first. Then a huge rush of people came running towards me. They had savage looks on their faces, drained of color but full of malice. Zombies.

I was afraid. I didn't what they wanted, and I didn't want to be left alone without my brother, so I used my newfound energy to drag him inside the house. The door was open for me, and though he was taller than I, my desperation pulled us both inside. He was lighter than I thought. Now that we were out of immediate danger, I glanced up the stairs, wondering if I could make it up there with him. Something was giving me strength, and whatever it was, I was going to put it to good use.

* * *

I woke up in my bed. That led me to think all the odd things that happened to me were just a dream. The last thing I remember was being on the streets, so it was a logical assumption. I sat up quickly to check the time—and immediately fell back down with a grunt. However I ended up back inside, it seemed Alex really did rip me up. My sheets were damp with a mixture of blood and rainwater, and I inappropriately grumbled at the thought of having to clean it off despite more immediate concerns.

A more careful attempt had me successfully sitting up. The white coat I thought I left on the chair fell off my shoulders. I felt a faint warmth that wasn't mine. There was something—or someone—next to me. The coat went flying, revealing a shock of purple hair, followed by a girl in a straight jacket sleeping fitfully next to me. Bewilderment replaced fear. It was my sister, though I didn't know how she escaped from St. Mary's, or how she had gotten me up here from the street. I pulled the blanket over her and gingerly tiptoed to the bathroom to assess the damage.

What I saw in the mirror didn't quite please me, and it wasn't just because I needed a haircut for like a month. Alex had done quite a number on me, but that could be patched up, could heal over. What worried me were the strange sores on the side of my face and on my arms. I broke open a new pack of bandages and fixed up the scratches; at least I understood how to care for those. After I finished, I retrieved my notes from the car. Perhaps now was a good time to actually read up on the information.

Eventually I had a large stash of papers on my desk waiting for me to go through. There was a burning sensation in the back of my throat that water couldn't relieve, so I opened another pack of cigarettes. My sister was still sleeping, so I turned on the desk lamp. I took a deep drag, prepared for a long and miserable read.


	3. The Meeting

Disclaimer: Left 4 Dead belongs to Valve, though I've taken the liberty to change certain elements of the game and setting to my liking and/or convenience. The characters and the story itself belong to me.

Line Breaks: Line breaks indicate a change in point of view. It is set up so that you, the reader, would eventually find out the name and identity of the characters without a blatant "I am Bob" at the top. If it is still too hard to follow, tell me so and I will try to make it more obvious in the future.

Warnings: Corny jokes, as I tend to write in the wee hours of morning. I ASSUMED that since you, the reader, played L4D, you will be okay with some references to blood, mild violence, and suggestive themes.

Work In Progress: I have everything in ONE Word document, so I am always reading and rereading what I wrote, and thus rewriting and editing and the works. The point: I might change minor things like wording, adding detail, etc. as I see fit to 'finished' chapters. Sorry. I will try to keep a change log.

A/N(s):_ 11-30-09_

T'starla - Thank you for giving my work a shot. Indeed the Infected are not human anymore, and that is why I found it interesting to portray how they would take their new situation in stride with their lives.

0elixir - To be told that she is doing something right is the best encouragement a writer has to keep writing :)

In general...Critique is always appreciated! On with the story.....

_**12-1-09**_ - Sorry, I didn't realize I had anonymous reviews disabled. It should be enabled now. orz

* * *

Hunters are territorial creatures. That was one of the many things I found out in my time being one. Aggressive hunters made it quite clear we owned our part of the city, though we welcomed our comrades into our space as long as they knew who was boss. Despite my possessive nature, I didn't feel the need to establish a corner to call mine. I preferred to travel, looking for something that I couldn't quite explain into a rational idea. I went where the fights went, though when the scuffle was over, I'd get the urge to be back on the road.

I wasn't sure what caused the infection to be different in everyone, but I understood that whatever strain I caught made me agile and vicious. The term "Hunter" was something I picked up from a survivor I pounced, who pointed at me and shouted "Hunter!" before I silenced him. I suppose the term was applied appropriately. My senses improved quite a bit, and though I resented it at first, I had to admit I enjoyed the abilities I gained from the infection. Tall buildings became easy hurdles, and my quickness made me elusive even to gunfire.

It had been a week since I attacked Cain, and my guilt made me avoid his place. I only vaguely remembered the incident; in fact I couldn't recall what he looked like. It was only the feeling of guilt and confusion that remained. The prospect of running into him without even recognizing him mortified me. Not that he was likely to be there; I knew I left him in a bad way, and I only dealt with the guilt by letting my new instincts take the reins. Today, however, I felt the itch to stake it out, just in case. That wasn't what I told myself though. My excuse was that there were survivors passing through there.

The streets were dark but for a few faint lights from cars and shops. Lack of maintenance made the buildings appear old and perhaps even haunted. The city was hardly empty though. Idle figures sat or stood in the streets. Some fought amongst each other.

I sat on the roof of a house, biding my time. The scent of humans was easily distinguishable from there. My patience was rewarded when a lone survivor slowly crept out of his hiding place. I moved into a better position, meanwhile making sure this one was actually alone. Admittedly, I am not as effective against multiple survivors.

No other survivors seemed nearby, so I crouched, growling in anticipation. He recognized the signature growl, but decided to turn the wrong way. I pounced and hit my mark, feeling the familiar frenzy fuel my attacks. This one was immune to the virus. He already had wounds a few days old but he smelled purely human. Oh well, that meant this one was going to die.

At least, that's what I thought until his buddy I hadn't noticed hit me in the face with the butt of a shotgun. I was stunned, both from my miscalculation and the head trauma. As self confident as I was, I yelped rather pitifully when I found myself staring up at two shotguns.

I thought that was going to be the end of me. However, one of the two survivors started sliding backwards with a long tentacle-like tongue wrapped around him and completely disabling him.

"Smoker!" he yelped in a voice that almost matched mine. His friend turned around to save him, but that second was all I needed to pounce on him. The combination of both the survivors' calls for help seem to have alerted more, as I saw another two coming out of the same house. I cursed. Even with a smoker's help, taking out four survivors was tricky business. I clawed faster, hoping to incapacitate my current victim by the time I had to save my own skin.

An eerie howl interrupted my plan in its formation. It sounded faintly like a woman vocalizing, only it wasn't human. I didn't have time to contemplate the source of such a sound because a horde of zombies came rushing towards us. _Right on time! _I crowed in my head. The horde forced the two survivors back into the house. I safely finished off my prey and made my escape.

On the rooftop of a certain white house, I encountered my rescuer. Or maybe rescuers. A Smoker sat leisurely on the roof, watching me casually. He had that "no need to thank me even though you didn't" attitude going. The hair at the back of my head raised in self defense. Next to him sat a female with purple hair. Purple hair…that couldn't be natural. She clung to the Smoker, peering at me from behind his annoyingly confident figure.

"Still alive I see, Alex," he said to me, not quite facing me and instead slanting his gaze at me. My anger rose a little when he casually popped out a cigarette. I lit when the lighter flicked open.

"I didn't need your help you cocky Smoker," I retorted poisonously, choosing not to respond to his obvious baiting in using my name.

"Oh? I suppose you have a partner elsewhere?" He looked around pretentiously, knowing fully that I was alone. "I heard sometimes hunters work in packs." His tongue curled up in an elegant but infuriating arch at the suggestion.

That set me off even more. I lunged towards him, knowing Smokers were useless at melee range. Before I could get my fingers around his neck, I saw that silver cross.

"Cain?" I said stupidly.

The Smoker raised one eyebrow, but I resisted the urge to punch him. "You couldn't recognize me? I would say the way I look now is your fault you know."

* * *

Truth be told I was a little surprised Alex didn't recognize me. I should have known better though; regression is different in everyone, and if the idiot gave in to his instincts early on, it shouldn't surprise me that he'd forgotten. I was still just a little bit upset at him so I didn't greet him with my arms open for hugs and kisses.

"Cain?" he was asking, an expression of utter confusion on his face. That looked so familiar despite the changes in him that I smirked. That was all the answer he needed. "You're alive?"

"No thanks to you." I stopped smirking. It was still a sore topic for me. I don't enjoy getting my innards almost ripped out by people I thought were my friends. I eventually accepted that I would have been infected anyways if Alex didn't rip me up, so I didn't begrudge him that particular transgression, but all that clawing was utterly unnecessary.

"Cain, the survivors…" whispered Lily from next to me. The survivors she cornered were on the run again.

"Let them go," I said, waving my hand. I didn't like asking Lily to use her abilities. As far as I knew, there were no other Screamers. They were helpless except for their voice, and were fragile compared to even common infected. I wouldn't be surprised if their rarity was simply because the survivors killed them so easily.

Alex looked like he was thinking very hard. I concluded that he'd been living off his instincts for the past week, and the idea of using his brain again was slowly making its way back to him. "Would you like to come inside for tea? This is my house," I reminded him.

"What? Um, no," he replied. "This isn't my territory."

I sighed, blowing a lock of hair out my eyes in the process. Hunters have territories. I wasn't quite sure how they mark the borders. It was indistinguishable to Smokers. Territories only affected us when our…weaknesses encouraged us to work with hunters, and thus stay within their domain. The Hunter with claim to my corner of town was nowhere in sight at the moment.

"Yes, but it's not like he owns me or my house, right?" I rolled my eyes, only because I knew this made Alex angry. Hunters were easy to read despite hiding their faces in their hoods. They seemed to not be able to control their growling, and the tone of said growls told me everything I needed to know. I puffed a cloud of smoke at the irritable snarl aimed at me. "What, do you have your own Smoker who will chew you out if she saw you with me? Or is it that you think I belong to the Hunter who thinks he is king of the rock and you're afraid of him?" I waggled my tongue a little before making a little sideways question mark with it.

Long story short, I successfully badgered Alex into my house.

* * *

I was only convinced to go inside because I felt like I owed Cain something for roughing him up. Additionally, he didn't seem very pleased with me, and I learned ages ago that his forgiveness could be hard to earn.

When I actually walked into his house, however, I immediately berated myself for being suckered into it. Why should I care if he forgives me or not? I had already come to terms with the possibility of him dying, never mind that it was more repression than acceptance. The idea of living without him didn't feel too far-fetched. I was a solitary hunter, right?

The Smoker _chuckled_ at me. My growls had been getting increasingly miserable, and the bastard found it _amusing_.

"I see you haven't laid off the cancer sticks," I sneered, hoping to draw his attention to himself.

"No. In fact I think it suits me, being a Smoker and all, hm?" He'd always been annoyingly calm and laid back about everything. I found my space invaded by a puff of smoke. I hissed and waved it away. The Smoker snickered at me again, but ended up coughing. Half of me had to hold back a _Serves you right_. The other half wanted to get him a glass of water. "So," he continued after he was done, "enlighten me on what you've been up to." _After you left me a bloody mess in front of my own house_, I finished for him in my head.

"Usual Hunter stuff," I replied vaguely.

"Where's your territory as you call it?"

"Don't have one," I sniffed defensively. "Don't need one. I just travel around where the action is." It was true, but it sounded more like an excuse when I said it out loud than when I thought out my answer in my head.

I had the benefit of Cain's full attention now. His eyes bore into me, and I found myself looking away. My instincts were telling me to either rip out his eyes or find a hole to hide in now. I distracted myself by wondering what thoughts were behind such an intense gaze.

Finally, he asked, "How did you know my name is Cain?" He didn't drop his gaze, much to my chagrin. I shrugged. He seemed to take that as indication I didn't understand the question. "You call me by name, but you've demonstrated that you don't recognize my face," he explained.

"Your face looks a little different now than it used to," I pointed out, knowing that wasn't what he was asking at all. He seemed to know that, because he didn't say anything, waiting for me to provide the correct answer. I refused.

"When you took the aspirin and knocked yourself out, you let the infection take over, and your regression progressed faster than you realized. After you woke up, you didn't seem remember anything from your past life, to the point of attacking me and leaving me to die." I winced. "I want to know how you drew up my name out of thin air."

"That's not true!" I retorted instantly. I acted without thinking and moved out of my seat towards the Smoker in my agitation. "I remembered you! I stopped when I saw th—" I cut myself off when I realized what I was doing. Cain had all the answers he needed now.

* * *

The Hunter had his claws around the silver cross I always wore. When he realized what he was doing, he shut himself up and slunk back to his seat. I didn't tell him anything or drop any hints, but at that moment I forgave him a little. I had enough answers for one day's worth of tearful reunion. "Tea?" I offered with my best foxy grin, in a tone that was completely inappropriate for the previous mood.

Poor Alex was thrown completely off balance by my fluctuating behavior. I snickered inside at his discomfort. I might have snickered out loud too, judging by the way his grumbling became more frustrated again. Hunters were fun to mess with.

"Cain, there's someone at the door," Lily said over her tea. I wiped the smug look off my face and excused myself. I had a pretty good idea who it was, though I was neither surprised nor pleased at the knowledge.

I opened the door right before it was about to suffer another dent. "Kenny." That qualified as my greeting.

"Cain! You must be a mind reader. I was just about to knock on your door." Kenny meant he was about to scratch up my door. It was already scarred from his attention, and I decided to give it a new paint job when I had the time.

"Actually, I heard you coming. You must have taken the rooftop route today," I returned, stabbing at the way he howled like a maniac when he made his leaps.

"You're not going to let me in?" he poked, totally ignoring what I said. I swatted his hand away from my face, but he closed it around my wrist to make it look like I pulled him into the house.

"Sure, come in," I drawled, more to cover up my own irritation than to humor him. He already closed half the distance between the door and the living room anyways. I braced myself to introduce the two Hunters to each other.

They…didn't need my help.

"Who're you? Hey, don't slink away like that!"

"I am just passing through," answered Alex. From the look on his face, I gathered he already knew. Figures that hunters could tell who owned what territory and could immediately recognize them. "I'm leaving."

"Not until I figure out what you were doing here." Kenny looked from Alex to me, then back to Alex, expecting one of us to speak.

"He followed some survivors here and we met when the humans crossed the street," explained Lily, not quite truthfully but exactly the way I would have said it.

"Ah, I see." Kenny tapped his nails the table and helped himself to a cup of tea. "Ya like it here, Chippy? Lookin' for a house to stay in?"

"I invited him in, Kenny," I said quickly because Alex started to growl. "This is Alex. I knew him before the infection." Being the diplomat between two aggressive Hunters was not my cup of tea, but I would not like it if the two destroyed my house in defense of their pride. "Let me finish my chat with an old friend before you enlighten me with whatever brought you to my door, hm?"

Kenny relaxed his posture. If the two started a fight, I was sure Kenny would initiate, so when he stood down I let out a large smoky cloud of relief. He slung his arm around my shoulders in the fashion he knew I hated. I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes away from him. "Well sure, he knows the rules. It's all fine as long as he knows what's mine." I may have counted my chickens too soon.

"I do not belong to you, and neither does my house, despite what you may think about the boundaries of your territory," I sighed, going back to the argument that neither of us had ever won.

Perhaps it was because Alex was here and Kenny felt like he had to exercise his power. Normally we'd reach an "it doesn't matter for now" solution, but backing off to me in the presence of a threat to his pride was out of the question. "You know," he said through a low growl, "we hunters like to back up our words with a fight. Do you want to challenge me?" He bared his fangs and grabbed the front of my shirt. His attempt at intimidation didn't work. I was used to this get-in-the-Smoker's-personal-space tactic.

Unfazed, I raised my eyebrows at him to make sure he knew that I wasn't afraid of him. My hand casually wandered to his and plucked his fingers off my shirt. I must have underestimated the gravity of his motives, because he grabbed my wrist in such a way that I automatically braced myself for the follow up attack. I never found out exactly how far he'd have gone in beating me up because he was knocked away from me in the next instant.

* * *

I knew the moment I saw him that this other Hunter owned Cain's block. It was just something I knew; I can't really explain it. I tried to make my escape before he saw me, but of course he knew I was here as soon as I sensed him. In fact, he moved into my line of sight way faster than I thought.

I grit my teeth and sat through his insinuating questions. Cain in all his tidiness might throw a fit if I trashed this guy in the house because it would probably trash his living room. When I reached the end of my patience, Cain came to rescue. That calculating bastard probably had all the lines figured out, so I let him do the talking.

When this Kenny guy got too close to Cain, I felt the hair on the back of my neck stiffen again. Cain, however, didn't seem daunted by the Hunter, so I ignored it and let them sort out their own problems. He was a cocky guy, Cain. At that range, Kenny had all the power, but Cain radiated attitude as thick as his smoke. It consoled me to know I wasn't the only one he liked to aggravate.

Oh but now Cain did it. Kenny was mad now, and I could see the attack coming in slow motion. My temper flared, and I pounced on the offending Hunter halfway through his attack.

I had to admit he was pretty good. Instead of landing a perfect pin, I found my own momentum used against me and landed on the bottom when the tumble ended. When he released his grip to claw at me, I swiped at his face. He backed off, but only far enough for me to get back up before we were at each other again.

The scuffle went pretty hard on me. I was bloodied up in no time, and I rarely fought other hunters so I wasn't prepared for his better-than-human strength and agility. However, I couldn't back down this far into the duel. It wasn't just a matter of pride anymore; the loser would get mauled up pretty badly, and I didn't fancy being in someone else's territory in a crippled state.

I couldn't tell who was winning. All I knew was I could keep going, so I did. Kenny had more experience than I, so I ended up pinned more often than I'd like. It was never anything I couldn't maneuver out of at the expense of Cain's clean white walls and polished hardwood floor. After a particularly vicious kick that landed square in my chest, we had enough distance between each other that we glowered at each other instead to catch our breath before the next assault. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that some of the furniture was out of place. Lily was watching from upstairs now, and Cain was leaning against the far wall near the kitchen, massaging his wrist and rolling a spent cigarette between his lips.

Then we were at each other once more. I quickly got nailed again. This time I used the same trick Kenny used on me earlier; I brought my knees up and flipped backwards over my head. Kenny went tumbling off, but I left myself so disorientated that I ended up in much the same position I started in: floored. I could feel myself slowing down from the damage I took. Kenny was feeling the hits too, though. He jumped on me and slashed me across the ribs, but I broke out of the pin easily by sinking my teeth into his arm, and we were back at tearing at each other with our claws.

Right when I landed a clean swipe on Kenny's side, a tongue snaked around me and fished me out of the fray. I was furious, but it was useless. I was a hissing ball of fury dangling in the air from a long tongue that didn't look like it should be able to hold me up.

"Let me go Cain!" I howled. If Kenny attacked me now it'd be over. Why didn't Cain tie up Kenny instead?! I was fuming at the treachery, my vision still red from anger and blood frenzy. The entire fight couldn't have lasted longer than a minute, but I was dripping blood onto the floor, and there were thick smears of the same where Kenny picked himself up.

"I think you've remodeled my house enough. Both of you," muttered Cain quietly.

Kenny snarled at me and crouched into a pounce. That was it; I was going to get owned.

"Nah uh," warned Cain in a manner that reminded me of the way my mother used to speak to me when I tried to eat the cake before she was done baking it. He extended his hand outwards in Lily's direction. "I won't squeak or make a scene unless you give me a reason to." Whatever that was supposed to mean, it made Kenny back off. Cain put his hand back down.

I had no idea what was going on.

"Don't push your luck, Cain," warned Kenny.

"I think it would be best if Alex stays with me for a while. You should get yourself fixed up too. I'd hate to have to deal with a more aggressive landlord than you."

Kenny apparently decided Cain's suggestion was his best option because he haughtily stalked past me. He shot me a venomous look before he leapt out of my sight.

Cain finally put me down. I attacked as soon as I hit the ground. "Why did you grab me instead of him?!" I growled and hissed and spat like an angry cat.

Cain gave me his signature lazy sideways glance. "I don't know, maybe I thought you would taste better."

"Bastard!" I lunged at him. I tripped. Over his tongue.

* * *

TBC


	4. The Decision

Disclaimer: Left 4 Dead belongs to Valve, though I've taken the liberty to change certain elements of the game and setting to my liking and/or convenience. The characters and the story itself belong to me.

Line Breaks: Line breaks indicate a change in point of view. It is set up so that you, the reader, would eventually find out the name and identity of the characters without a blatant "I am Bob" at the top. If it is still too hard to follow, tell me so and I will try to make it more obvious in the future.

Warnings: Corny jokes, as I tend to write in the wee hours of morning. I ASSUMED that since you, the reader, played L4D, you will be okay with some references to blood, mild violence, and suggestive themes.

Work In Progress: I have everything in ONE Word document, so I am always reading and rereading what I wrote, and thus rewriting and editing and the works. The point: I might change minor things like wording, adding detail, etc. as I see fit to 'finished' chapters. Sorry. I will try to keep a change log.

A/N(s): This update came a little late because I am on my finals weekend and I've been meaning to edit some of it. I have the whole thing written up to maybe chapter 8, but some of you may know that backtracking is needed every now and then :)

* * *

I limped my way back to my flat with my head so full of thoughts, I didn't actually think of anything in particular until I slammed the door shut. There I nursed my injured pride and cleaned myself up. I didn't notice Bruce coming into the room until I had to turn around to find a fresh hoodie.

"Someone moving in on your turf?" the Boomer asked matter-of-factly.

"Don't sneak up on me! I won," I said, a little too quickly.

Bruce was a smart boomer. His powers of perception matched Cain's, though he was a lot less annoying about it. It was very useful, but sometimes I resent not being able to lie to him. "So the reason there's no new hunter in town at the moment is because…"

I had to finish the sentence for him. He already knew I lost. "Cain." I couldn't quite keep the snarl out of my voice.

"Why don't you tell me the whole story," suggested the Boomer.

So I did, and then some. I raged on about how Cain could have stopped the fight a lot earlier, but he waited it out until I was clearly losing. Then he intentionally roped up the punk as a demeaning way to say I was inferior. As if that wasn't enough, he rubbed salt in my wounds by blackmailing me about it! I bet that cheeky bastard was full of himself now.

"I see," rumbled the Boomer. I didn't realize how much I had been ranting but I guess I was. It didn't matter though; Bruce was loyal to me. "I think you should leave Cain alone. He is resourceful and clever. It would be wise to let him be, since he doesn't want anything from you, and neither does his friend, who not only proved he could beat you but learned your tricks too."

I knew his words were wisdom, but I couldn't accept it. "What, let a subordinate run rampant just because he thinks he can outsmart me? That's no way to be a leader."

"You don't think he's proven that you can't control him? That he isn't your subordinate at all?"

"Tch, I just need to show him who's in charge."

Bruce looked like he was about to reply but he simply looked at me. After a moment, something that looked like comprehension lit his eyes. Had he guessed the real reason behind my persistence?

"As you wish. What do you plan to do?"

Good question.

* * *

Alex refused to stop squirming. I was leaning over him with a bottle of what he called the "stinging bubbly stuff," but the creature wouldn't let me apply it. I don't really think he needed it; Hunters have fast regeneration, and both Alex and Kenny would be pouncing at full strength in only a few days. However, God knows where—and in who—Hunter claws ended up, so I wanted to disinfect the wounds.

I straightened my back. Alex must have felt this meant I was about to throw him a curve ball, because he stopped his squirming and watched me warily. We stared each other down, though he was obviously on his toes and ready to retaliate against whatever I threw at him. I shot my tongue at him and pinned him down without batting my eyelashes. His reflexes didn't save him. I estimated that he made it half a foot before my grip tightened and snapped him back to the table. Really, the tongue wasn't all that bad of a change. I was also thankful that I didn't have to taste anything I didn't want to. It was a necessary adaptation in this circumstance. Not everything I had to grab was tasty. I didn't have to tell Alex that though.

"You taste a bit like chicken, you know that?" I commented while I resumed the work on the Hunter's gashes, even though I couldn't taste him at all. "Could use a little a salt," I added when the hydrogen peroxide met his skin and started bubbling.

"Ow! Owowow!" He was spewing profanity at me now. No matter how much he struggled though, he couldn't break my grip. I leisurely finished up and started bandaging him.

"Alright I'm done. You can go play now." I released the Hunter, who sprang off the table and danced away howling and glaring balefully at me. "Ingrate," I snorted.

He stuck his tongue out at me. I curled mine teasingly back at him. The Hunter realized his folly and turned his nose to the air, strutting out of the room.

Lily and I began moving the furniture back. As soon as the two hunters had started their bickering, they immediately made two dents in the wall, so I had shoved the furniture to one side of the room. They had been kind enough to stick to the space I made for them, though the stains would probably never come off. It didn't bother me as much as I thought it would. The blood stains and dents were befitting décor in the new world we lived in.

My sister's condition was still a mystery to me. She had a strength that only showed its face in certain circumstances. It was like an adrenaline rush. She told me she was the one who carried me up the stairs the night she came here, but she wasn't able to lift me again. I hadn't figured out exactly how it worked, and I was reluctant to put her in danger just to satisfy my own curiosity. However, I didn't doubt her story. Not after the time I saw her launch a car thirty feet.

And then there was Kenny. He was a crafty Hunter who knew his street smarts. He had a bit of a pride problem, and I would probably feel the repercussions of my decisions in due time. Unlike Alex, Kenny knew exactly what was going on, I was sure of it. He knew I used both of them. I wondered what Kenny had planned for us. That he would try to get back at us, or at least me, was certain. He had his faults, but he didn't end up at the top the pecking order by being a pushover. I couldn't say I was afraid, but all the same I hoped nothing drastic would come of it. I really disliked it when people decided to do drastic things….

Lily was clinging to me again. I ran my fingers over the star-like scar on the side of her forehead. "Let's play," she suggested. Her expression didn't change. She always had the same blank expression on her face. There was a time when she remembered how to smile.

I walked her to the piano, and we sat down.

* * *

I was sitting on Cain's roof. It was time to hit the road again, but I didn't feel the urge this time. I told myself it was a bad idea to wander into survivors in my state. However, I didn't want to stay either. Kenny was bound to find me again, and I frowned at the prospect of having to deal with him and his competitive ways.

Plus, why should it matter to me what Kenny wanted? As long as I was not in his territory, I wasn't his problem. His disagreements with Cain weren't my business either. If Cain were man enough, Kenny would be off his case sooner or later. I was just causing more problems.

I leapt off the roof, deciding it was time to leave. Maybe I would just leave Cain a note as my farewell.

There was music floating out of the house. I battled with my curiosity. I lost.

I crept around the house, making sure to keep all my noisy habits to a minimum, until I could see the source. Cain sat at the piano with his back to me and Lily leaning against him. There was a music score in front of him, but he didn't move to flip it even though I was sure he must have went over more than two pages of notes by now.

I made myself comfortable at the window I was perched on. I had known Cain for years already, but there were still a lot of things I never figured out, and still more I didn't even think about. The scene I was witnessing somehow didn't fit in with what I knew.

Cain's sister was a pop singer. Back when I met Cain, I saw her around; her blue-violet hair was hard to miss. They didn't speak to each other, which led me to believe they didn't get along. She had her own circle of friends, and a boyfriend. Cain on the other hand kept everyone at a distance. He had enough opportunities for otherwise; he was popular. But the wall he raised around himself was almost literally visible to me. I knew about the façade he wore and mastered so well.

The piano was playing _La Campanella_. Cain's long fingers made the jumps look so easy and natural. They glided over the keys in a fluid blur, though his body moved not at all. Cain was never one for theatrics, with the flashy hand waving and head bobbing some pianists use at concerts. Of course, Cain wasn't a professional pianist, so he had no use for flashiness. He played for himself, not others.

I spent a lot of time with Cain back in those days. At some point, I stopped seeing Lily around. Cain had refused to talk about it. That was fine though; nothing came of it. Cain was still as popular as ever without his pop star sister despite his aggravating personality. I didn't remember him ever getting a girlfriend though.

The song shifted to a much slower first movement of _Moonlight Sonata_.

A few months later after they avoided each other—it was all over the news—Lily attempted suicide, details unreleased, and was locked away at a mental hospital. Her boyfriend burned himself to death the same day. Cain refused to talk about that too, but he wallowed in depression for a full month before he got back on track with his life. It confused me because I thought they weren't very close, and it was unlike the laid back bastard to let something bother him to that extent. Anyways, that was when I found out he played music. A lot.

At the end of _Song from a Secret Garden_, he decided he was done playing. Lily had fallen asleep, though Cain seemed to expect it. The doctor carried her upstairs, and I left my spot at the window. I let myself back into the house, feeling like I wanted to stay a few more days.

* * *

The first thing I did when I woke up, even before opening my eyes, was reach for a pack of cigarettes. I was under a lot of stress and I didn't sleep well last night because I couldn't stop _thinking_. I really hated thinking. The ignorant never realize their bliss.

My fingers found the box. Blind groping didn't produce any cigarettes so I forced my eyes open to actually look.

I blinked at the empty white container for a full minute. "I'm out?" I muttered finally even though no one was in the room. I usually tried to keep the count at less than three sticks per day, but I opened this pack maybe two days ago. Briefly I calculated my average time between smokes over the last week. The results just made me want to light another one. Oh wait, I already wanted to light another one.

I crumpled the box and decided I needed a better way to deal with stress.

Downstairs, Lily already had tea ready. Alex was found curled up on the living room sofa. I would have offered him a guest room with an actual bed if he asked, but he didn't. Not my loss.

"You don't look so well today," Lily commented over the table after I sat down.

"I need a new pack of cigarettes," I explained. She blinked at me as though it wasn't a good enough explanation. "I usually have a smoke in the morning, remember?"

"Bruce came by earlier today. He said we will have action later in the day." She didn't seem to think changing the topic suddenly like that was out of the ordinary.

"Today? Ugh, but I need to pick up cigarettes." The day was barely starting and I could already feel a headache coming. "I hope the survivors have some."

"He said it's a pretty big group."

"We might want to take Alex then." I was not sure if it was a good idea to have the two hunters within sight of each other so soon, but I predicted Kenny was angrier with me than Alex. I might as well take a hunter who could work with me without grudges. "Where are we headed?"

"The hospital is the most popular path," she brought up flatly.

"Eh, at least I know my way around in there. Let's wake up the guest before he misses the fun."

When I walked up to Alex, I could see why he hadn't woken up yet. His hood was still pulled low over his eyes. He probably wouldn't see the sunshine for another few hours. I pulled his hood back. The look on his face while he was asleep made me smile inwardly, though he woke up and it was gone in an instant.

"Ack!" He cringed and reached for his hood. "What was that for?" he demanded when his face was safely hidden in the hood again.

After I made sure he was awake enough to see me, I waved my tongue in greeting. "Good morning to you too," I supplied.

He glowered at me. Or perhaps at my waving tongue. "Can't you ever put that thing away? I mean like completely back in your mouth?"

I did so.

"Why do you let keep it hanging out then? It looks bothersome." He wrinkled his nose.

"Because I am simply too lazy to do everything with my hands now that I have an _extra _appendage. Besides, all the better to taste you with." I arched my lips into a well-practiced smirk, now that he had the advantage of the full view.

Alex must have decided he liked the view better with half of it obscured by tongue, because he said, "Psh, then leave it out. I hope you run into a pole in the winter."

* * *

TBC

Rather uneventful chapter. It's to make up for lots of action later :x


	5. The Survivors

Disclaimer: Left 4 Dead belongs to Valve, though I've taken the liberty to change certain elements of the game and setting to my liking and/or convenience. The characters and the story itself belong to me.

Line Breaks: Line breaks indicate a change in point of view. It is set up so that you, the reader, would eventually find out the name and identity of the characters without a blatant "I am Bob" at the top. If it is still too hard to follow, tell me so and I will try to make it more obvious in the future.

Warnings: Corny jokes, as I tend to write in the wee hours of morning. I ASSUMED that since you, the reader, played L4D, you will be okay with some references to blood, mild violence, and suggestive themes.

Work In Progress: I have everything in ONE Word document, so I am always reading and rereading what I wrote, and thus rewriting and editing and the works. The point: I might change minor things like wording, adding detail, etc. as I see fit to 'finished' chapters. Sorry. I will try to keep a change log.

xXxSoulKeeperxXx - I suspect it would be because the fan base for OC Infected isn't as large as for survivors ^^

12/20/09 A/N: *insert profanity* The upload didn't register one of my line breaks. I'm sorry to the people who read this before I edited the line break back in _. It was the one separating Terry from Alex's PoV. I'm picky when I read over things before posting, but I do it in Word so sometimes I miss the upload errors.

* * *

I learned today that Cain was as popular now as he was when he was in school. On our way to the hospital, he had to stop to talk to random people—I mean zombies—way too many times for my patience. Some of them gave me odd looks. For the life of me I couldn't figure out why. Many hunters travel from town to town, so I couldn't have been the only unfamiliar hood they ever laid eyes upon.

"It is because you are with Cain," said Lily, as if she read my thoughts. That answer made more questions. She proceeded to answer those too. It gave me the creeps, actually. "He usually doesn't keep a hunter around him. Even when he comes with Kenny, they arrive separately."

And that was when I noticed we weren't on Kenny's land anymore.

"Don't pick fights with the neighbor too, eh Alex?" prompted Cain when we neared a hospital. I recognized it as the one he worked in a few weeks ago. Well, he still worked there now I guess.

Kenny was there before us. He was talking on the roof with a boomer, another hunter, and a smoker. I singled out the new hunter as the leader. I stiffened as we approached them, but Kenny seemed to ignore my presence.

"Greetings. This is my friend Alex; hope you don't mind the extra," started Cain. "This is Bruce, Alisha, and Jake," he said for my benefit, indicating the boomer, the she-hunter, and the smoker in that order.

"Bruce is actually from Kenny's side of town," added Jake. He was a little bit shorter than Cain, but still taller than me. I noticed that the sores were more prominent in Jake than Cain. Well, Cain did say the infection affected everyone differently. "He'll be calling the shots, and I'm sure we could use extra muscle."

"Cute hunter ya found," grinned Alisha. She wore a black outfit and it make her look a little like a panther.

I bristled. "I am not—"

"He's just visiting," interrupted Cain. I fell silent. "He'll just get bored and jump survivors on his own if I didn't take him here."

"So Kenny, who are you tagging today?" Alisha asked Kenny.

"Sasha is coming in a bit." I could only guess at what they were talking about. I was too busy watching Kenny and Cain have a silent stare-down. Heated glare versus cold gaze.

* * *

We gathered a fairly large group at the safe house this time. Excluding my friend Terry and myself, we had eight survivors. Compare that to a usual of _up to_ four total.

Terry and I were what the local military called 'Ferrymen.' Survivors making their way to their rescue often had to cross over zombie territory. Our job was to guide them and see them through safely. Of course, that meant we put our ass on the line for complete strangers, but I didn't mind a few good deeds every now and then. Besides, we were both immune, so as long as we got away with a heartbeat, we had nothing to lose. I told Terry we would make a few more runs until we headed for the refuge sites ourselves.

So that made a total of ten humans trekking through zombie land. The route we were about to take was reputedly tricky, but I decided to take it since we had a pretty large force. We had a good chance.

"Rick, we're ready," piped Terry from the ammo stack as she finished up zeroing her sniper rifle.

"Alright, let's rock." I pushed open the safe house door.

We had a pretty good start. The apartments were straightforward and we didn't meet any heavy action until we neared the heart of the city. I decided to take the group through the sewers to avoid the mobs up top. As it turned out, the infection proliferated more than I thought since the last time I ran over this route. We ran into a tank down there. Everyone walked away from it, but the tank had forced us to use our supplies early, so we were low and everyone was looking forward to making a stop at the hospital.

Back out of the sewers, we made a beeline for the tall building. Not one second after the last person walked through the double doors, we were all drenched in boomer bile. I hastily rubbed my eyes, calling everyone into the corner.

"Watch out for smokes and hunts," I ordered, knowing a few shotguns could easily level the approaching zombies. The special zombies were far more dangerous.

Sure enough, people started getting pulled. I quickly freed the ones I could see past the thick green bile that hadn't worn off yet. Everyone and their mother was screaming. When the bile cleared, I made a quick head count.

We were missing one. "Where's the kid?" I roared. I hadn't learned his name yet, but everyone knew who I was talking about.

"Over there," pointed Terry to the end of the hallway. The kid was already blue from lack of air.

I bull-rushed towards him and bashed the smoker tongue off of him, and then chased after his attacker, expecting Terry to care for the victim. The smoker ran up the stairs with me hot on his heels. I tailed him all the way to one of the offices, where I had him cornered.

I shouldered into the room with my shotgun leveled at the smoker. My stomach turned when I caught the smoker grinning devilishly at me before a thick column of smoke engulfed me, as though I killed him. I actually hadn't fired a shot at him yet.

My entire field of vision was obscured by pale green smoke. I backed out of the office, knowing something was going to jump me. Sure enough, a hunter leapt out of the smoke. I didn't expect one to come from _that_ direction, so I found myself floored. The sound of a sniper rifle cracked through the air, and the hunter was gone, vanished as quickly as he appeared.

"Thanks Terry," I muttered. I was beginning to understand why this part of the city was so hard to traverse. "Tell the others to stick together. We're dealing with some tricky ones."

The party regrouped at a waiting room. Some of them were in bad shape already. We had to be more careful. After a quick breather, I insisted that we had to keep moving.

The stairs were blocked by debris a few floors up. I herded my party into the main building again, searching for either another set of stairs or an elevator. We passed by one of those large waiting rooms with a fancy desk and spacious windows. The windows were broken.

"Stay away from the windows," I warned. As if to prove my point, one of the survivors found himself ensnared by a long tongue.

"Oh my god! What the hell!" He struggled to pull it off as I ran towards him. Too late; he went over the ledge.

Terry moved the survivors along as I uttered obscenities under my breath.

One down.

* * *

We eventually found an elevator, but it got jammed part of the way up. Rick forced the doors open, so we were back in the main building. I was feeling a little down. This was supposed to be a straight simple trip up to the roof where the helicopter could take us out of here. All the complications were prolonging the process.

While the rest of the party fought off the horde that we attracted with our racket, I scanned the doorways and hallways for threats. My crosshairs landed on a smoker spying on us from around the corner, and I shot him.

"Nice shot," Rick commended before going back to mowing down zombies. Picking off specials was my role in the party, but compliments always made me feel even better.

We cleared the rush and proceeded down the hallways, checking all the rooms for supplies. Suddenly, a purplish blur brushed past me. A figure in a straightjacket sprinted ahead of me down the hallway, screaming an inhuman scream that made me wince, and trailing a head of violet hair.

"What the heck is that?" I gawked.

"Run for it!" Rick ordered, shoving me forward. "Run now! Go go go!"

Rick didn't specify where we were supposed to be running, but I dutifully cleared the way until I felt like whatever alarmed him was far enough away. There was a mass of zombies after us, and the narrow hallway made it impossible to go back for anyone who wasn't quick enough to keep up. A quick count of who was still with me revealed that we lost two people in the rush.

"Keep going! Don't stop until you see the laundry room!"

I turned the corner and saw the laundry room. The odd screaming made an encore, and a horde of zombies broke through a wall and flanked us. I never thought having a horde rush of all things could do us in, but it succeeded in splitting our party in two, with me in front and Rick behind me after a mob of infected.

I made sure the ailing survivors were safely in the laundry room before I went back out, hopefully to give Rick's party cover fire. To my infinite relief I spotted him shoving his way towards me. I released a volley of lead rain into the mob while he led his party over the carnage.

The laundry room turned out to be another checkpoint stocked with ammunition. We tried not to notice or mention that our party now had six members as we replenished our supplies.

"So what was that screaming thing?" I asked to cover up the silence.

"A Screamer. I thought they didn't exist anymore, but I guess a few slipped through the radar. They can summon the horde. If you see it again, kill it before it can open its mouth." Rick didn't blame me, but I felt like the rush was my fault. I might have been able to kill the Screamer, and we would still have nine people.\

* * *

I jumped when Lily started howling, even though I was expecting it. It wasn't something one got used to easily, that was for sure. She ran into the office I was stationed in and hopped onto the windowsill. Then the Screamer stretched out her arms, her long white sleeves making her look like an angel hailing the dawn. Then she tipped forward and let herself free fall. "What are you—" I asked the empty sill. I rushed to the window and peered over it in time to see Cain pull her up a few floors down. Wow, she had a lot of faith in that guy. Cain seemed to have caught me looking, because he stuck his arm back outside and made a gesture at me that looked like he wanted me to go back to my station.

Right on cue, the stampede rolled beyond my office door. I waited for most of it to go past before I jumped one of the survivors. To my vexation, someone came back for him. I let myself get shoved off my victim and slipped back into the mob of common infected, letting them cover my escape.

Kenny leapt in and took over where I left off. Well that was stupid of him; the two survivors were too close to each other. But right when I thought I would be relieved of Kenny forever, a smoker tongue shot past me and lassoed the other survivor. Retaliating gunfire broke the hold and the other end of the tongue burst into a cloud of smoke. My heart missed a beat. The two humans got away in the end, but they were already so far behind the main group that they were doomed.

I ran back to the smoke, anxious to make sure it wasn't Cain who bit the dust for Kenny's sake. When I turned the corner, I ran into the smoker I thought was dead and bowled both of us over.

"Damnit Cain stop making me think you died," I growled, picking myself up.

"Heehee, I'm not Cain," answered a distinctly feminine voice. I froze. A _female_ smoker? "And the smoke is precisely to make people think we died."

"Oh!…uh…" I stammered, searching for something say.

"Come on Sasha, they made it around the corner. Lily is already in position." Kenny rounded the bend and almost ran into me. I bristled and backed away for space. "Oh, try to pounce on the survivors instead of our smokers next time," he shot at me.

I was too stunned to defend myself.

Sasha giggled. "Don't be so harsh on him. He wasn't watching where he was going because he thought I was Cain and dead." Wrong thing to say.

"Yea, well if he's here he isn't doing a very good job at helping that asshole anyways." Kenny huffed disdainfully and the pair left me speechless at the hallway, my thoughts more muddled than the smoky air around me.

* * *

"Why not just tell Alex to stay with you?" I asked Cain while he climbed up through the ventilation for us. He had me on his back.

"He wants to be where the best action is. He'll be back with us if the survivors reach the roof and we join the fray." We climbed came out into the same room Jake and Alisha were waiting in.

"I thought you were going to be in the action down here too," I replied, using the same term he used for putting himself in danger.

"It's pretty easy work for now. Focus on keeping yourself safe instead, silly. There's no alternate way for you to take, so you'll have to jump again to get away from them. I'll catch you." Cain put me down. He waved to Jake and Alisha before climbing back down.

"Bruce will come with the go-ahead," Alisha said to me. I nodded.

I wished Alex would stay with Cain. Large parties were dangerous for Brother's kind, but he would never let me stay with him when he was fighting. Kenny usually partnered with him, but he seemed to be angry with Cain. I wasn't too sure of the reason; I only felt the tension.

Bruce came in not longer after Cain left. "They're coming. Go in three, two, one…"

I called the horde. My voice sounded a little different from usual when I used that ability, to the point where sometimes it felt like I was the one listening. The horde answered.

When the noise passed our door, Bruce vomited on the last half of the party. Alisha and Jake moved in while Bruce and I used the chaos to escape.

A bullet whizzed by my head.

"We're being chased. Split up." Bruce was gone before I could answer. I simply turned and took the way Cain told me to. The man with the shotgun chose to chase me instead of Bruce.

He fired his shotgun again, and a part of the spray hit me. I ducked into the nearest office and hobbled to the window. I looked back to see the survivor's shadow approaching quickly.

The place Cain told me to jump from was a few offices ahead; I wasn't sure if Cain could reach me, or even if he knew I was out of position. I hesitated and put my hand on my shredded thigh, knowing I wouldn't survive the trip to the cement below. It was a long way down. Then, I spread my arms and looked towards the sky.

_Believe._

The bullets flew through my hair as I started the fall. The windows glided past me faster and faster. The outlines of the cars below were becoming alarmingly clear as I plummeted towards them.

And then I was dangling familiarly at the end of Brother's reach, with the ground much closer than I would admit to myself. He was perched on an external air conditioning box, and he looked so far away, I must have pushed the limit of his range. The ascent back up to him felt too long for comfort, and he pulled me into his arms as soon as he could. His heart was beating as fast as mine.

I took comfort in the sound of his heartbeat while he took us back inside and wrapped up my leg. When he was done and pulled away from me, I caught his arm.

"I'll be fine," he said, knowing what I was about to say. "Well, I could use a smoke, but I have to keep the others out of trouble. Best thing you can do is stay safe. You know, so I don't have to make any perilous jumps onto air conditioners."

"Who will protect the protector?"

"_Quis custodiet ipsos custodies?_" he quoted back at me in Latin, not quite in the correct context but pointing out the infinite regress. "We protect ourselves."

* * *

TBC....hopefully soon, since I'm on break now.


End file.
